Prologue
He sighed. Then he, too, turned and walked into Abby's cubicle.
And took his place beside the boy.
It was three weeks before Abby was released from the hospital, and three months before she'd been trusted to look after herself – re-dress her wounds, walk up the stairs alone, even bathe herself without assistance. It was not a time she had enjoyed, to say the least, but now she was excited, because at last she was able to drive her own car to the hostel just a few blocks west of Bayside, able to walk from the street and up the steps into the building, able to breathe in the fresh air before she was offered another jacket, a coat, a scarf, gloves. Finally she had convinced them that everything was all right – she was fine.
She enjoyed the drive, savoured the cool breeze whistling through the tiny crack of her window, despite the chill. The snow was piled up at the roadside and was gradually diminishing into slush and new rivers of ice; a further storm was expected, so nobody was hopeful in response to the melting; the snow chains were still on. Everybody drove carefully, Abby in particular; she'd been avoiding the expressway for months.
Parking in front of a quaint set of terraces with brightly painted doors and shuttered windows, Abby stepped out of her new Toyota and revelled in the feeble sun, almost dancing in that din glow but for the ice slicks surrounding her. She'd have to watch her step or she was sure they'd have her bedridden until summer – Katzka, especially, would refuse to let her out again for fear she'd injure herself further. Cautiously she ambled up the sloping concrete until she reached the house with the blue door and climbed the steps. She steeled herself silently, then lifted the brass knocker, with came down with a thud.
The sound of small footsteps running to answer the door began to reach her, before the door handle swivelled, already unlocked, and a pale face appeared, cheeks rosy-red from exertion. The little face smiled up at her.
"Ah-bee."
